


Please Don't Remember Me

by Destielixer



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Amnesia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 16:55:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2395829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destielixer/pseuds/Destielixer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian is a telepath who had been captured. He wakes up and he can’t remember a thing. Mickey was sent to kill Ian but he didn’t and now he has to suffer and watch Ian suffer as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Don't Remember Me

[SEND ME A SHIP AND A NUMBER AND I’LL WRITE A SHORT FIC](http://gallaviction.tumblr.com/post/98454350270/send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-ill-write-a-short-fic)

**18\. waking up with amnesia au**

**A/N: Hey nonnie here’s the fill for your other prompt. It’s kinda short though but I hope you like it! Also, I might have plans to make this into a multi-chapter story next time. It depends. ~~I’ve got so many things that I want to write oh god.~~**

* * *

He awakes to a white room. Everything from floor to ceiling is white. Paper white. It’s blinding. He closes his eyes as he breathes in and out. His fingers flex digging into the soft material beneath him. A bed. He opens his eyes again, slowly this time so that the white isn’t so fucking blinding.

It works and this time he’s able to turn look around the room as he props himself up on an elbow and then subsequently sits up in bed, taking in his surroundings. His mind fills with questions.

Where am I?

How did I get here?

And then the most horrifying of all thoughts hit him.

Who am I?

No, no he mustn’t keep flooding his head with all these questions. He calmed himself down sitting back against the wall and taking deep breathes. He needed to remember a name, his name…

_Ian…Ian Gallagher…my name is Ian…I don’t remember how I got here…_

His ears pick up a whirring noise and Ian turns towards it, he sees a red bleeping light. Something he’s never quite noticed before. It’s a camera. He stares right at it. There’s definitely someone there, watching him.

“Who are you!” he asks brows furrowing together as he looks at the camera.

Of course there is no answer. What was he expecting?

* * *

“Are you satisfied?” Mickey asked his father as the camera zoomed in on the redhead.

“You had orders to  _kill_ him,” Terry spat at his son, “Yet you chose not to.”

Mickey looked away. It was fucking painful enough. “It’s better this way. I mean what better way to see your son hurt right?” he asked voice heavy with sarcasm.

“You’re going down there,” Terry said and Mickey clenched his hands into fists at his sides as he swallowed.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mandy answered, “What if he gets violent again?”

“Oh he won’t be violent if the drugs worked its course. Heck he won’t even remember that he has powers,” Terry answered.

Mickey pursed his lips, “Fine you want me to go I’ll go,” he answered as he stormed out of the control room, getting away from everyone inside there.

His booted feet made hollow noises along the corridors as he headed to the cell where they were holding Ian. As if erasing his memories hadn’t been hard enough. He had to face his own handiwork. Yet what other option did he have? It was so much easier to see Ian alive than dead.

The guards outside the cell let him in as soon as he’d told them that his father was the one who sent him.

* * *

Ian looks away from the camera when he hears footsteps. He sees someone entering. That must be the way in and out of this, this cell. He cocks his head at the man who comes in. There’s something about him. Ian doesn’t quite know what. Something about him that tickles thoughts in his head. Flashes of distant memories, he can’t really grasp on to any of those memories so they easily fade away into nothingness as the man cautiously approaches him.

“Ian,” he greets as he sits down at the edge of the bed, uninvited.

He stares at him, stares at dark eyes that watch him. Ian shifts, putting more distance between them as he draws his legs up to his chest, holding them close. Ian looks up, into the camera, and then back to the other man. The raven follows his gaze.

“There’s people watching us,” Ian spoke.

“Yeah. They sent me to check on you Ian,” the raven answers as he settles on the bed now. “They sent me to ask you some questions.”

“How do you know my name? Did you bring me here?” Ian asked deciding that if they were to have a questioning session they should have an equal number from both sides.

An emotion flickers in the raven’s eyes, regret? Affection? Ian can’t tell.

“You’re on a list of wanted criminals. Ian. You and a few others. We brought you here to protect you.”

“You’re lying,” Ian said, “there’s a tick in your jaw, you always have that when you’re lying.”

Ian was just as surprised as the raven who stared at him when he said that. How did he know that?

“I didn’t…I mean…” Ian tries to correct himself confused, “I don’t know how I knew that. But…” he shakes his head, “You’re not here to protect me are you?” he asks looking from the camera and then back to the raven.

Mickey clenches his jaw. His fingers digging into his palm. It hurt him to see Ian like this, so…vulnerable. But he decided to answer him anyway, “No, we’re not here to protect you. We’re here to destroy you…at least they are…” Mickey said pointing to the camera.

“Can they hear us?” Ian asked.

Mickey nodded.

“Aren’t you with them?”

“I’m a special agent. I only hunt the targets down and bring them here. I don’t specifically like to work with them,” Mickey said as he stared back into the camera hoping his father was watching to register his hate.

“I have a question for you anyway,” Mickey said as he swallowed past the tightness in his throat. He dreaded the answer to this, dreaded hearing Ian’s response. He didn’t want to know. Didn’t need to know. But this was the only way that Terry would keep Ian alive.

“Fire away agent,” Ian answered him as he straightened out his legs again, relaxing in his presence.

“Do you…know who I am?” Mickey asked, feeling the words coming out of his mouth, scratching and clawing their way out.

The redhead studied him. His green gaze washing over him, a green gaze that he knew so well. There was a slight shake of his head.

“No…I’m sorry,” Ian answered, “I mean…I know you like…I think you look familiar but I don’t know you.”

“Do you know my name?” Mickey asked.

“I…” at this, Mickey could tell that the redhead was trying desperately to remember.

“Don’t,” he said stopping the redhead with a hand on his thigh, “Don’t try to remember anything. Just tell me right now, at this moment. Do you know my name or not?”

Ian’s eyes stared at him, his lower lip trembling just lightly. He pursed his lips and shook his head, “No. No I don’t know you…I don’t know your name…I don’t know you…” he looked positively terrified now his green eyes staring wide at him. “Should I know you?” he whispered and Mickey drew his hand back shaking his head a positive no.

“Make sure it stays that way okay Gallagher?” Mickey said as he pushed up from the bed, “Don’t try to remember anything at all,” he said.

“Why not?” Ian asked.

“Because that’s an order. Don’t defy that order and you’ll be safe here. If you do, if you try to remember you will die,” Mickey answered and then he turned and left.

Ian watched as the raven left. Memories were all floating around in his head and the one prominent thing, the one familiar thing in all of them…it was blanked out. Like those points in his memories had been painted over with white. He felt like he should know him, that raven…felt like he was familiar, that he was important.

_‘Don’t try to remember…’_

“Don’t…” Ian whispered repeating the raven’s message in his head as he sunk his head into his lap, fingers running through his hair in frustration. “Don’t remember…don’t…”

“Don’t try to fucking remember!” Ian screamed in anguish as he grabbed at his head, burying himself into the white pillow. “Don’t…I don’t…Mickey…don’t remember,” he whispered softly into the pillow.

* * *

“You see that son?” Terry said as he made Mickey watch the redhead in his cell, writhing in anguish.

“Sooner or later his scrambled mind will consume him and you, you would have helped to get rid of one of them, fucking telepaths.”

Mickey closed his eyes, his fingers touching the screen.

_‘Please don’t remember me…’_


End file.
